


Purest Emeralds; Obsidian Depths

by InterestingCorpse



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Dean, Cured Dean, Demon Dean, Exhibitionism, First Time, Human Dean, M/M, Masturbation, Season/Series 10, Top Castiel, non-con but not really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-04-03 05:00:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4087879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InterestingCorpse/pseuds/InterestingCorpse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is desperate to help Dean, and Sam, and wants nothing more than to transform Dean, turn him back into the hunter he loves, but he's struggling to resist this wanton, seductive version of Dean who is offering him everything he's ever wanted.</p><p>*Angst and smut with a happy ending*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for the terrible title; I'm crap at titles =/
> 
> Unbeta'd and a little dark.

Sam didn’t say much when Castiel arrived; he was drunk, his eyes were bloodshot and his hair was a mess because he kept running his hands through it. Sam laughed humourlessly and mumbled ‘He’s in the dungeon,’ then threw back the glug of whiskey he was holding, his face drawn and heavy with pain, exhaustion colouring the lines beneath his eyes in blues and purples, a testament to how far this thing had pushed him.  Cas knew better now than to push further; Sam looked like he was at breaking point and Cas did not want to cause him more pain. He nodded at him and then made his way to the bunker’s dungeon, guided by memory and the faint sound of Dean’s voice singing and laughing, sounding happier than he had in a long time but crazier too, the laughter warped and not quite Dean. There were bursts of babble between each cackle before the singing recommenced, as if Dean was drunk or drugged, a strange new cadence in the way Dean murmured, exaggerated and darkly amused. Cas knew the moment Dean heard him outside the room not only because of the sudden silence but the slimy pulse of power Cas felt, probing at his mind from behind the shelving units that hid the dungeon doors. Cas felt his heartbeat sky rocket as he realised the extent of Dean’s transformation and all his hopes shattered.

   Since the moment Sam dropped the bombshell about Dean, Cas had prayed, begged, that the younger Winchester had been wrong; that somehow this wasn’t really happening, that Dean, the beautiful Righteous man with the most brilliant soul Castiel had ever seen, glorious in its bravery, its compassion, its ability to love, had been corrupted in the most vile way possible. As he had barrelled towards the bunker, furiously cursing Metatron for taking his wings, desperately wiping the tears that spilled freely and without end from his tired eyes, the way they had ever since he learned of Dean’s death, Cas hoped and hoped that this was temporary, this was fixable, this wasn’t happening. But, as that wrong-sounding laughter began again and that dark, repugnant power licked against his mind, Cas realised that he’d been an idiot to dare to hope because this, this was so much worse than he could have ever imagined.

   Only the most powerful of demons, the Knights of Hell, could ever hope to telepathically link with an angel. The sheer amount of psychic power and ability it took to read the mind of one of Father’s warriors could only be outmatched by Father himself which meant that Dean had not merely been transformed into a demon but into one of the most despicable and powerful beings, besides Lucifer, that had ever existed. Cas felt his chest hitch as his heart broke again with grief. And then his breath stuttered as he realised the other consequence.

   With Castiel’s fading, stolen grace slowly ebbing away, Dean might be able to read his surface thoughts, perhaps even deeper ones and Castiel’s protective barriers might not be enough to hide from Dean’s psychic intrusion. Everything he felt, his thoughts, his fantasies, _he_ would be laid bare to Dean, completely vulnerable to him. Immediately images flashed into his mind; the most carnal of his fantasies about Dean, the most sinful, and Cas couldn’t help the churning pit in his stomach as he was hit by humiliation.

   ‘Hey, Angel’ Dean called out, humour evident in his voice, ‘You come all this way for me? I’m touched, really.’

  Castiel stilled his reaching hand, scared to open the doors and confront what was on the other side. There was the scrape of chains against the wall and Cas gulped as an image, unbidden and, right now, unwanted, flickered through his consciousness, bringing with it a flood of emotions that Cas immediately quashed. Not the time, not now, don’t feel, just fix.

   ‘Cas! Come on, man, are you visitin’ or just standing guard?’ came the eerily cheerful voice, sounding for a second like Dean was just Dean, just teasing, and it gave Cas the courage to reach out and grasp the doorknob.. With a calming breath, he pushed the doors open.

   Cas’s chest hitched when he saw Dean, chained to the wall, eyes like Whitby Jet, cruel smile twisting his beautiful lips. His hair was filthy, greasy, and there was dried blood on his hands. Cas tried not to think about how it go there.

   ‘Hey, Angel. Guess what happened?’ Dean grinned wider, chin tilted down, looking up under his lashes, his shoulders shaking as he chuckled to himself. Cas moved forward a little, staying well out of the devil’s trap, keeping his face neutral, pushing power into his mind’s defences as he felt that filthy tendril of evil swipe against his thoughts, seeking entry. When it found none, the smile on Dean’s face slipped a little, warping into a snarl, demon seeping into his features, twisting them into something grotesque, a perversion of Dean’s beautiful features.

   Then, as quickly as it changed, Dean’s face was back to looking almost-human, almost like himself if it wasn't for the blackness of his eyes, a little triumph in his face as he leaned forward and whispered ‘My beautiful features, huh, Cas? You sweet talker.’

 


	2. Chapter Two

Castiel instinctively shook his head, as if to clear the dirty feeling of demon power, like he could just shrug it all off, like he didn’t care. He raised his mental barriers, fortifying them to prevent further intrusions. 

  ‘Hello, Dean.’

   Dean- the demon smiled in mock coquettishness, then licked his lips, his black eyes not once leaving Castiel’s.

   ‘Cas, come on, it’s me. You can’t play coy with me, not now, not after everything.’ Dean-the demon said softly, seductively, sat against the wall he was cuffed to, safely inside the devil’s trap, for now at least. Sucking on his bottom lip as he stared at Castiel through his eyelashes, Dea-the demon spread his legs, letting them fall open and lifting his hips in suggestion. Cas managed to retain his impassive expression, not wanting to give an inch lest De- the demon made a sudden move, but he could not help looking at the obvious bulge between his- its legs and feeling a shiver. 

   ‘That’s it, Cas, you can have what you want. It’s ok, I want it too.’ Chains scraped against the rough stone wall as D-it stood up and slowly prowled towards Cas, not stopping until the chains were pulled taught. ‘And, you know I’m not possessed, right? I’m Dean, not ‘it’ or ‘the demon’. It’s still me in here; just a better version.’ Dean's eyes flickered back to green for a moment before the black was back.

   Cas's heart rate increased as he desperately forced more power into his mind's defenses, having underestimated a Knight's power, and he tried not to sway when the effort hit him like a freight train, the room spinning as Cas sucked in deep breaths through his nose. The sight of his human, presenting himself to Cas in such a manner, made it all the more difficult for him to find his equilibrium, hands clenched into fists in order to keep his composure. Instead of showing his fear, his sadness, Cas tilted his head a little, focusing on the spell work etched into the handcuffs, checking it for mistakes, just in case. Anything rather than think or feel.

   Dean smiled darkly, his head tilted to the left, mocking Castiel, imitating him as he stood by the door, not daring to move closer, a burning sickness in his gut, as Dean looked him over and quietly chuckled to himself. Those glittering black eyes where there should be bright forest green, plump pink lips twisting into a lascivious sneer, the scent of death and evil on the air and, worst of all, writhing, undulating worms of black ooze coating Dean’s fiercely brilliant soul, dimming its light to barely a flicker, appearing to be all the more dark for Castiel’s fading grace, fading power. Castiel remembered how it had looked in Hell, how it shone brighter than any other in the bile and offal coated dimension, and felt the sting of human tears in his eyes as he turned his head away, feeling grief not only for Dean's soul but also for his grace. There was the sound of slightly staggered footsteps and chains rattling as Dean fell back a couple of steps and laughed even harder.

   ‘Castiel, angel of the fucking Lord, are you crying for me? Well, that’s… that’s just precious,’ Dean crowed then collapsed into bastardised hysterics, the laughter cruel and dark. Cas stiffened his back and blinked the tears away, not letting his mask slip even a little as his beautiful human laughed the repugnant laugh of a demon. 

   ‘I am sorry that this has happened, Dean, but we will find a way to fix it.’ Cas says, keeping his voice confident and calm as Dean snickers at him. Dean looks at him from underneath his eyelashes and begins to shrug his shirt off, letting it drop down his arms, the dark green material hanging limply across the thick chains holding him back. Underneath, he was wearing a black t shirt that was snug across his shoulders and rode up a little when he stretched his arms above his head. Dean smiles smugly as Cas's eyes involuntarily follow the movement.

   ‘Why the fuck would we fix it, Cas? It’s not broken.’ Dean flashes a cruel but beautiful smile as he throws Castiel’s words back in his face, bringing up painful memories and dark feelings. Cas looks away for a moment, eyes focusing on a small crack in the wall as Dean continues. ‘Anyway, isn't it about time that poor miserable, pathetic, guilt-ridden Dean got to go dark side? You and Sam; always fucking up, always betraying me, always doing the worst thing. But not this time, boys. Now I get to have some fun.’ Dean rolled his neck, his terrible black gaze never straying from Cas, making him feel like he was on display, like his insides, everything he hid and never spoke of, were laid bare for Dean to poke at, stab at. Cas knew that honesty was his only defense.

   ‘I have… fucked up, many times; I have failed in every conceivable way. God, Heaven, humanity,’ Cas looked away, ‘…you.’

   ‘Yes, you have but, you wanna know a secret?’ Dean whispered, conspiratorially, chewing delicately on his bottom lip, like Cas had imagined doing for longer than he cared to admit. Cas stayed quiet, even though Dean seemed to want an answer, tilting his head again and lifting his eyebrows. With a shrug, Dean dropped to his knees in front of Cas, spread his fingers then placed his hands on his thighs. Cas took a step back.

   ‘Dean, what are you-‘

   ‘The _secret_ is that, despite everything, and we both know that’s a lot,’ Dean said, conversationally, looking up at Cas through his dark gold eyelashes, ‘there is a way for you to make it up to me.’


	3. Chapter Three

Dean all but purred as he spread his knees wider and let his head fall back, his mouth gasping open, looking for all the worlds like the embodiment of lust. Cas felt his breath hitch and his cock stir in his pants, both horrified to see Dean behave this way and feeling like his true form might leap out of his body if he did not touch Dean immediately. At the sound of Cas’s shameful, breathy gasp as Dean rolled his hips, Dean lowered his head and grinned at him, looking so pleased with himself in that way he did when he told a funny joke, that boyish charm that was so disarming and yet would make Cas ache in ways he could hardly take. He… wanted Dean, in every way he could have him, any way he could be closer to him, and Dean knew it. Castiel wondered how long the hunter had known, what had given him away, how it had made him feel, if he…if, when all this was over, when Dean was human again, when this nightmare was over, if he could ever really want Cas like that, if there was any truth in his words. But, despite the foolish flutter of hope he felt inside his chest, Cas knew that he could not do this, not like this; Dean would never forgive him.

   Taking a deep breath and composing himself, Cas willed the ache between his legs away, letting the blush clear from his cheeks as he mentally flagellated himself for being so easily affected by Dean’s manipulations, and met Dean’s eyes directly. He could handle this; this was Dean. They would get through this.

   ‘S-Sam seems to think injecting you with human blood w-will-‘

   ‘How long have you wanted to fuck me, Cas?’ Dean said, softly interrupting, black eyes blinking back to his own green-gold gaze. ‘Was it right away, in the barn that night? Did you see me and think-‘

   ‘Stop it, Dean!’ Cas shouted, surprising himself with the volume of it, amplified by his fear, his shame, his desperation to never have this conversation. ‘Just stop. You would never say these things if you were yourself so stop-‘

   ‘That’s exactly the point, Cas!’ Dean shouted back, getting to his feet again and shrugging his shirt back on, growling audibly when the chains stopped him from marching over to Cas, yanking him back, the wild anger of demons flashing back as his eyes went black. ‘Do you think it’s fun, huh? Being one step away from eating a bullet, day in, day out, throwing down whiskey just to numb everything? Repressing every fucking thing I ever feel, trying to keep going, trying to keep you and Sam and Charlie and Garth and everyone on the fucking planet safe!’ Dean snarled, a dark twist to the shape of his mouth, the demon inside rearing its head to snap at its captures, rip them to shreds, pure rage in the flash of his teeth as he pulled on the chains again, tearing the flesh on his wrists as he did it. Cas found himself holding out his hands in a very human gesture, wanting to pull Dean towards him as much as push him away, his heart breaking at the pain manifesting in Dean’s face, wishing with all his might that he could make any of this better, when Dean’s demeanour changed completely, like the rage had burned itself out as quickly as it came.

   ‘That’s why this is so perfect, Cas. Because I don’t give a fuck,’ Dean said with a wide smile, like he was telling the best joke ever, eyes green and beguiling again. ‘I don’t care about saving the world, about good and evil, about being a good hunter, a good brother. All I really care about right now is you fucking me.’

   Already thrown by the mercurial swing in mood, Cas was not prepared for Dean to say… that to him and, much to his shame, Cas let out a little whimper from the back of his throat that simultaneously cost him dearly and sent a bolt of mind-blowing pleasure down to his aching cock, making it harden and jump obviously in his pants. The low chuckle from Dean made the sensation better, or worse, and Cas found himself squeezing his hands into fists again, trying to distract himself as Dean settled back down on his knees.

   ‘When did you first realise you liked this, Cas? Was it the first time you saw me tied up? Or did you think about it before that?’ Dean asked, voice husky as he ran his right hand over his cock; Cas alternating between delirious lust and cutting humiliation as Cas realised what Dean had managed to read from his mind. Dean moaned, low in his throat and rolled his hips, pressing his hand hard against his erection, making Cas’s mouth go dry and the room swim again as Dean unzipped his fly and reached into his underwear.

   ‘As soon as you-ahh, fuck-came d-down here,’ Dean stuttered over his words as he pulled his thick cock free from his jeans and began to stroke his hand over it, hips thrusting a little as he pleasured himself without shame. ‘It was one of the first things you thought-oh, god, Cas, this feels so good, ah-when you heard my chains.’ Cas staggered backwards until his back was pressed hard against the wall, trying not to look, not to think, not to watch, as Dean’s movements became more frantic, clear liquid leaking from his cock in a steady stream, the smell of sex in the air. Cas blinked rapidly and shook his head, trying to stare at the floor though his eyes would not stop flicking back to Dean. Dean, who was flushed, panting, a light sheen of sweat gathering on his forehead and in the hollow of his throat, his eyes squeezed shut as he approached his orgasm, his voice getting more strained, his face more debauched as his pants and moans came faster, thrusting wantonly into his tight fist.

   ‘You want me like this, chained up for you, ready for you- uhhh, shit,- so you could-oh fuck fuck _fuck,_  you could, uh, slide right inside me a-and… oh fuck, Cas-‘

   Castiel was too busy trying to contain himself that he didn’t notice the heavy footsteps coming towards them until Sam cried out ‘Jesus fucking Christ, Dean! What the hell are you doing?!’


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of child prostitution

‘Well, hey there, Sammy,’ Dean drawled, never taking his eyes off of Cas who was stood, stock still, with his hand over his mouth, eyes wide, shaking with tension. Sam had turned to face the other way, leaning against the door frame with one hand, the other over his eyes, his head shaking left and right, like he had no control over it.

   ‘Dean, I… I, holy fucking shit, I can’t…’

   Dean laughed then rubbed his thumb against his slit one more time, his eyes on Cas, his hips shuddering a little as Cas stared on in horror, his embarrassment over his reaction and being caught by Sam managing to calm his physical reaction, enough that he could pull his hand away from his mouth to tug his trench coat in front of his crotch.  Dean chuckled again and finally stopped touching himself, tucking his cock away and just about managing to do up his zip… not that Cas was thinking about that; _don’tthinkdon’tthink’sdon’tdon’tdon’t._

   ‘Sorry Sammy, didn’t mean for you to catch the show.’ Dean said cheerfully as he settled back on his ass, resting his elbows on his bent knees and grinning at Cas, and Sam, who had dared to look back round with one eye shut. ‘That was just for our little angel’s benefit. Seems like he enjoyed it…’

   ‘Good, god, Dean! Do you not see how you’re acting?! You would never _ever_ act this way if it wasn’t for-‘

   ‘Yeah, Sam, you’re right.’ Dean pressed his lips together in mock thought, nodding to himself before saying ‘I never would’ve had the guts to tell Castiel here just how much I want him to fuck me.’

   Sam’s eyes bugged out of his head and he gaped at Dean, mouth hanging open, hands outspread, his throat working around words he couldn’t get out. Dean just smiled that cheeky grin and winked at Cas.

   Castiel turned on his heel and walked right out of the bunker, not stopping until he reached his car and locked the door behind him, his face burning with heat and his eyes filling with tears.

                                              *     *     *

   ‘What the fuck are you doing, Dean?’ Sam asked before waving his hands in the air and shaking his head again, as if to say ‘I don’t want to know.’ He felt that nasty wriggle of power against his mind again, the one that felt so much like hell’s influence worming its way through his brain, but he didn’t let it bother him. Sam had done his homework, like he always did, and found an amulet in the bunker that prevents psychic intrusion. It has to be recharged under the moon every night but that was fine; the last thing Sam needed was his demonised brother reading his thoughts. Too much bad blood, too many regrets and way, way too many secrets; Dean would rip him apart with them.

   ‘I’ve sucked a cock here and there, Sammy,’ Dean said casually, though his gaze was laser focused on Sam, a salacious grin on his lips, daring Sam to say anything. Sam just rolled his eyes, turned his back on his brother and started filling the syringes, ignoring the quiet laughter coming from behind him. ‘You know, I’ve even been fucked in the ass a few times. Bet ya didn’t know that about your macho big bro, huh Sammy.’ Dean chuckled gleefully, the sound sending creeped out shivers up Sam’s spine.

   ‘But, my god, if only you knew the things Feathers out there has thought about doing to m-‘

   Sam spun round to face Dean, angry and exasperated. ‘You don’t think I know you’re bi or whatever, Dean? Hate to tell you, big bro, but you’ve never been subtle. I don’t give a shit. I never have! And if you think humiliating Cas is gonna somehow stop this’ Sam gestured with a blood-filled syringe, ‘from happening, then you’re a lot more fucking dumb than I ever thought!’

   Sam glared at Dean, chest heaving as he tried to calm his temper, telling himself over and over _it’s not really Dean, not really, not completely, don’t listen…_

The silly cheeky grin plastered across Dean’s face slipped a little, his chin dropping, his eyes filling with black again as his smile turned into a sneer of teeth. Sam had to clench his fist not to shudder at the sight of Dean with that disgusting demonic expression on his face, the one Sam has seen on so many human faces; that twisted, sick-and-wrong smile that promised terrible pain and the death of hope. When a thin line of drool fell from Dean’s mouth, Sam thought it should be black; evil liquefied.

   ‘Do you know what else I’ve done, Sammy?’ Dean growled, each word echoing with that corrupt power, ‘What I did to keep your little belly full while Daddy was out looking for death?’

   Sam hid his face from Dean, fumbling with the syringes as his hands started to shake. _Oh please, please no, Dean, don’t, I can’t know this, please, not now-_

   ‘I was twelve the first time I let a trucker blow me. I remember wishing he didn’t have a beard ‘coz it was scratching against my balls, but, at the same time, being oh so grateful he did so I didn’t have to focus on his nasty, tobacco stained lips wrapped around my cock.’

   Sam dropped the syringe and all but ran from the room, puking bile into his hands, the awful sound of Dean’s laughter echoing in his ears.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry it has been so long and thanks for sticking with this. Writing has been like pulling teeth lately but I'm hoping to get more chapters up this week.

Cas slept in his car that night with the heat turned up and one of the windows cracked. He hated to feel the cold; in his weakened state, it felt like icy fingers of despair getting underneath his skin. Like death slowly pulling him further into its gaping maws. As stuffy as the car became, even with the window slightly open, Cas infinitely preferred it to the awful cold.

   In the morning, he was awoken by Sam tapping on his window, his face drawn, almost haggard. Cas could smell the whiskey on his breath through the gap in his window as well as other bodily odours which indicated the hunter had not showered recently. Even his hair was unkempt and dirty, hanging limply around his face like dead seaweed. Without any exchange of words, Cas unpeeled himself from the car seat and followed Sam back into the bunker, his stomach rolling unpleasantly as he walked down the steps. He couldn’t hear Dean’s voice this time and he was grateful for that, not wanting any sort of distraction, scared of a repeat of the day before. Cas swallowed down some bile that shame had dislodged from his stomach and gratefully accepted a mug of black coffee from Sam before sinking down into one of the chairs. The table was thick with books, scribbled notes, artefacts, cell phones and Sam’s laptop which was radiating heat.

   ‘Anything new?’ Cas asked, his voice thick from sleep and rough with emotion. Sam shook his head, taking his seat in front of the computer, a big cup of coffee grasped in his large hand.

   ‘I think we need to get him tied to a chair, like we did with Crowley. I tried when I first brought him back but he was struggling too much and I didn’t want to risk… I didn’t want…’

   ‘You didn’t want to hurt him.’

   Sam looked him in the eye then, the first time that day, and nodded, a very small grateful smile briefly stretching his lips before the look of grief fell back into place. Cas returned the smile as best he could and the two men nodded at each other.

   ‘Yeah. Obviously, that wasn’t a priority with Crowley,’ Sam laughed humourlessly. ‘But I think we’re gonna have to. He’s too free to move the way he’s chained up at the moment. He almost bit my ear off when I first tried to inject him with the blood. I don’t know if it’s the Mark or just him but he would’ve broken his shoulder and collarbone just to get at me. We can’t risk that.’

   Cas nodded and sipped at his coffee, grateful for the warmth of it and the way the pungent flavour slowly brought his senses back online. Feeling groggy was a very unwelcome side effect of his current predicament. Cas had hated it enough when he was human; experiencing it as an angel was even more unpleasant.

   ‘I will attempt to hold him still as we get him into the chair but, Sam, I…’ I shouldn’t be allowed to touch him is what Cas wanted to say but the words felt like ashes in his throat and he couldn’t finish his sentence. As he stared down at his coffee mug, he felt a warm touch to his arm and looked up to meet Sam’s eyes.

   ‘It’s not your fault, Cas, just like it isn’t mine. Dean said some… fuck, god awful things to me yesterday, things I never thought he’d say,’ Sam ruffles Cas’ sleeve a little before pulling away and running his hands through his hair, ‘and, I’m not gonna lie to you, he hit his target.’ Sam looked away but not before Cas noticed the slight glimmer of tears in his eyes and the haunted look in them, like Sam was lost in memories of the past, but then he wiped a hand over his face and schooled his features. ‘But, we can’t let him get to us. It isn’t Dean, not really, not… not completely anyway, and he needs our help. If we don’t do this, Cas, he’s gone and I don’t know what else we can do.’

   Cas nodded again, grateful for Sam’s understanding and not condemnation in the face of what he’d heard yesterday. Although Cas still felt ashamed and more than a little sick at his secrets being laid bare in such a way, he had always thought that Sam understood his feelings for Dean a lot better than he ever let on. More than once, Cas would finally manage to tear his eyes away from Dean as the beautiful hunter told a funny story, the humour in his eyes back-lighting the green so it glowed with a brilliant golden sheen, a part of Dean’s soul shining out of him, and would catch the warm, knowing look from Sam before they would look away. Cas knew how intelligent Sam was, intellectually as well as emotionally, so he had always suspected that Sam saw Cas’ love for Dean just as clearly as Cas saw the brilliance of Dean’s soul.

   ‘Ok, so I will hold him as still as possible and help you get him into the chair so you can fully restrain him,’ Cas said with a confidence he didn’t feel and a tremor deep within as he said the word ‘restrain’ and Dean’s comments whispered in his ears. Shaking his head, he threw down the rest of his coffee, ignoring the burning feeling on his tongue, and stood up with his back straight and head held high. After a moment, Sam also stood and squared his shoulders.

   From deep within the bunker, they heard laughter.


	6. Chapter Six

When Sam and Cas enter the dungeon, Dean is lying on his back, his hands behind his head, humming AC/DC to himself and grinning up at the ceiling, as though he were witnessing some beautiful phenomena like the aurora borealis or a meteor shower. Castiel’s eyes roved over him, not even sure what he was looking for, like he just wanted to drink in the sight of Dean looking relaxed and human. From behind him, Cas heard Sam bring in the chair for Dean to be tied to. The cuffs etched with binding sigils clanked together as Sam came in, giving off a very soft hum that Cas could just about pick up on; the sound of magic is harder to hear with depleted, stolen, grace.

   ‘Morning boys,’ Dean said cheerfully, his foot still tapping out some tune he was hearing in his head. Cas resolutely kept his eyes on that foot, keeping his mental barriers up as he felt Dean trying to breach his mind, that awful pulse of darkness scratching at his mind like splintered wood against bare skin, splinters digging in deep. It hurt and made the room waver a little but Castiel stood tall, appearing as immovable and unfeeling as he possibly could, like an angelic soldier should. He was not going to let anything stand in the way of rescuing Dean, especially not his own feelings and carnal desires. So long as Dean could not glean anything new from his mind, Castiel could help Sam get Dean secured and ready the injections.

   ‘Finally,’ Dean said as he stood up, chains scraping across the floor. ‘My ass was getting sore, Sammy.’ Cas looked at Dean to see him pouting at Sam, looking put out even as his green eyes sparkled with mirth.

   ‘Which reminds me of another story-‘

   ‘You are going in the chair and getting these injections, and if you hurt yourself trying to escape then that’ll be your problem,’ Sam announced to his grinning brother as he arranged the cuffs on the arms and legs of the chair so that Dean could be locked in quickly. Not waiting to let Dean continue, Sam turned to Cas and raised his eyebrows, asking if Castiel was ready. Cas nods, focusing on Dean finally, ready in case he suddenly jumps at either of them. Dean, who is still grinning, holding the expression on his face for so long that it looked like it would crack, looks Cas in the eye, and starts giggling.

   ‘Gonna manhandle me, Cas?’ Dean leers suggestively, letting that sickening grin slip into a seductive pout. ‘You know, it’s not nice to blue ball your friends. Get me all riled up with nowhere to go.’ Dean bites his lip as he looks Cas up and down. Even though the look gives Castiel tingles that border on painful, he looks over at Sam and nods, muscles tense as he waits for Dean to make his move. Sam starts moving the chair into the reach of the chains, Cas flanking him, ready to jump in whenever Dean goes for them.

   Except he doesn’t. He moves back and lets them put the chair in place, his face now devoid of any emotion, eyes swinging from one man to the other, like a pendulum, as he leans against the wall. Sam quickly bolts down the chair, his eyes never leaving Dean as he does it, Cas standing tall and silent beside him. The moment Sam is done, they both step out of reach. Cas hears Sam’s shaky exhale as soon as they’re at a safe distance and finds himself echoing it. They do not relax though, knowing nothing is ever that easy. Castiel narrows his eyes curiously as Dean continues to stare, focus shifting from Sam to Cas and back again.

   ‘Sit in the chair. Let us do this, Dean,’ Sam says, cautiously, his eyes glued to his brother as Dean stands there, completely still. For a moment there’s silence, as if everyone was holding their breath before the big push. Dean looks at the chair for a moment then looks directly at Cas.

   ‘Tell you what, Sammy. You give Cas and I some time alone to talk,’ Dean grins at Cas, ‘and I’ll sit in your little chair and let you waste your time for a while.’

   ‘No,’ Sam says, his voice hard, brooking no argument. ‘You can sit in the chair and we will do this together. You can’t be trusted Dean.’

   Dean keeps staring at Cas, as though he hasn’t heard Sam. Cas knows he should break eye contact but there’s something almost hypnotic about the way Dean is looking at him, a beautiful intensity that Cas adored.

   ‘Pretty sure it’s up to me. What do you say, Cas? Why don’t we have a good ol’ chat, like we used to?’ Dean finally pushes himself away from the wall, walking over towards Cas, poised and calm in that way that Dean does so well. Cas is not sure whether this is Dean merely wanting to speak with him privately, the way they have many times, or something else but there’s a voice in his head that’s telling him that conversing with Dean for a few minutes is worth it if they can cure him. Castiel has always enjoyed their talks, their time together.

   ‘It’s ok Sam,’ Cas says, his fingers flexing by his sides. ‘If Dean wishes to speak to me then we may speak.’

   As Sam protests, Dean moves as close to Cas as he can, eyes dancing, biting his lip in an imitation of coyness.

   ‘There’s my good angel.’

   Despite himself, deep inside, Cas feels a trembling.


	7. Chapter Seven

‘Cas, let’s just do this,’ Sam says, trying to get his attention as he and Dean look at each other. Dean’s eyes look almost human, the devilish sparkle in there just a little twisted, like when he uses humour to cover up something darker.

   ‘Sam, Cas is my friend. I just want to talk to him. Just ten minutes.’ Sam glares at Dean suspiciously as he speaks, clearly not buying what Dean was selling. Dean gives Sam a very Dean-like expression of exasperation then turns his gaze back to Cas

   ‘Cas?’ Sam says again, ignoring Dean, his eyes also on Cas.

   Cas briefly looks at him to say ‘It’s fine. I will call you when we have finished speaking,’ then turns his attention back to Dean who is smiling warmly at him, the skin around his eyes crinkling in that endearing way. Cas feels himself smiling back.

   ‘This is not a good idea. Dean can speak to you once he’s in the chair,’ Sam insists, still not looking at Dean. Cas feels a very small stab of annoyance at Sam, though it confuses him a little.

   ‘Sam, the sooner Dean and I have a conversation, the sooner we can cure him,’ Cas replies, knowing Sam will see the truth of what he’s saying. From beside him, Cas hears Sam sigh.

   ‘Fine, I’ll be back in ten minutes.’ Sam narrows his eyes at Dean and then leaves the room, shutting the door loudly behind him.

   ‘Thanks Cas. I really do just wanna talk.’ Dean says, his body language open, and very human. Cas watches with curiosity as Dean awkwardly scratches the back of his hand and looks at the floor. ‘I’m, uh, sorry about yesterday. This… thing that’s happened, it’s like sometimes I’m me and sometimes I’m not. You know?’

   Castiel nods, familiar with the feeling since opening Purgatory. Dean looks at him, his cheeks flushed, and smiles again.

   ‘I understand, Dean, but we need to get this done. I need you to be you again. We need you,’ Cas corrects himself, knowing that Sam’s needs were of course more important than Castiel’s, ‘to let us do this.’

   Dean nods, not looking combative or angry but thoughtful, slowly pacing from one end of the devil’s trap to the other. Cas waits for him to speak, curious what is on his mind.

   ‘Ok, Cas. I’ll do it for you, for Sam,’ Dean says calmly as he walks over so he’s standing in front of Cas, on the other side of the trap. His eyes are warm, no hint of anything darker now. So beautiful. Cas sees shades of green in them that he has never seen elsewhere, not in his long life. As his eyes rove unbidden over Dean’s face, Cas realises that he’s moved even closer. He’s still outside the devil’s trap, just about, but now their faces are inches from each other. Dean’s eyes keep flicking from Cas’s eyes to his lips and back again.

   ‘I’m sorry for what I did,’ Dean murmurs, his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip, ‘but I wasn’t lying when I said that I… think of you.’

   Cas shakes his head. ‘Dean, this is not-‘

   ‘I know, I know,’ Dean quickly agrees, his voice soft in a way Cas has only heard a few times. ‘But, you can’t blame a guy for trying to take his one chance.’ Cas knows he’s staring in that way he used to, before he learned about social cues and traditions, but there’s something in Dean’s eyes, his voice, that is difficult to ignore.

   ‘You’re not going to die, Dean. We won’t let that happen.’ Cas speaks fiercely, both to Dean and to that swell of fear in his chest he gets whenever he thinks of Dean in danger. To his surprise, Dean laughs.

   ‘I don’t mean that. Knowing you and Sammy, this’ll probably work. You always find a way.’ Dean smiles fondly. ‘This is about having just enough of this thing left inside me that I can be brave and tell you that,’ Dean chuckles and rubs his hand over his face, ‘I’ve spent hours of my life thinking about your lips.’

   Cas feels his eyes widen in shock. Dean had said sexual things before, overtly sexual things that seemed intended to humiliate, that _had_ humiliated Cas. Even so, he had found it difficult to resist; the knowledge that it was not really Dean helped him to have enough strength to leave. But now, with Dean shyly smiling at him, Cas found himself responding, despite his better judgement.

   ‘You have?’ Cas says dumbly, reaching up to press his fingers against his lips. He feels surprised, flattered, hopeful, scared all at once. Except, as he touches his lips, and Dean’s eyes follow the movement, Cas thinks of Jimmy and smiles ruefully. ‘These lips are not mine. This body is not mine. Jimmy may be in Heaven but this is still his body. A vessel. I look nothing like this.’

   Dean laughs, throwing his head back with it, making Cas even more confused. ‘You’ve been human in that body, Cas. You’ve been in it for years. Doesn’t that make it you, eventually?’ Cas opens his mouth to respond but Dean continues. ‘And anyway, I met Jimmy. Nice guy, good looking, sure, but he wasn’t you.’

   ‘I don’t understand,’ Cas replies, tilting his head to the side as he tried to decipher Dean’s meaning, ‘If my form was not inside the vessel then, no, Jimmy was not me.’

   Dean grins and laughs again, his eyes soft and indulgent, making Cas feel like a small but loved child, warm and silly at the same time.

   ‘I mean, I could tell by looking at him. There’s this fire in your eyes, like your grace is lighting them up. Except, when you were human, they were still like that.’ Dean lifts his hand, as though reaching to touch Castiel’s face. He feels the breath stutter in his chest, a wonderful, borderline painful burst of love and hope as Dean reaches for him.

   The touch never lands, Dean being unable to reach past the barrier of the devil’s trap. Dean looks from his hand to Cas and huffs a laugh, slowly dropping his hand, his cheeks flushing a gentle pink.

   Before he can think, Cas moves forward and presses his lips against Dean’s.

 


	8. Chapter Eight

Technically, only Cas’s face is inside the devil’s trap but that would be enough if Dean wanted to attack. He could grab Cas and yank him through, use his body to escape like that time Cas walked over Meg. He doesn’t though, just kisses Cas back, his lips soft, dry and warm. It’s a slow and gentle kiss, nothing frantic, but Cas’s heart feels like it could explode as it throbs and contracts inside his chest. Dean makes a soft noise and pulls away, just enough to look in Cas’s eyes. Dean’s pupils are dilated but entirely human and he reaches up to press his fingers against his lips.

   ‘Dean, I-I, maybe I shouldn’t have done that, I-‘ the rest of his words are swallowed up as Dean kisses him again, harder this time, making Cas’s own lips tingle. Cas doesn’t think as he steps forward, beyond the magical barrier of the devil’s trap, his arms wrapping around Dean’s waist as he kisses him. Dean’s smell, something like leather, gun oil, smoke and storms, envelopes Cas like a sentient being, dampening all his other senses until all Cas can think and feel is Dean.

   ‘Cas,’ Dean murmurs when they part, his hands coming up to hold Castiel’s face, ‘I could kiss you forever.’

   Cas all but swoons as Dean pulls him in for more kisses. There’s a metallic sound behind them followed by some thumps and bumps but Cas doesn’t really hear it, lost in the feel of Dean’s tongue sliding into his mouth. Cas feels like he is cocooned in warmth and lust and beauty as he melts into Dean, letting his tongue and gentle fingers caress him into a state of bliss.

   The next time Dean pulls away, Cas whimpers and moves with him, not wanting their lips not to touch for even a second. Dean chuckles and moves one hand to the back of Cas’s neck, stroking his cheek with the thumb of his other hand.

   ‘It’s ok, my angel, I just want you to sit down.’ Dean turns them smoothly, almost like they’re dancing, and guides Cas to the chair in the centre of the trap. Cas goes willingly, his eyes fixed on the beautiful green of Dean’s gaze as Dean sits him down and then straddles him. When Dean’s weight settles on his lap, Cas can’t help the moan that escapes from the back of his throat, fuelled by his desire. Dean kisses him and rocks his hips forward, briefly pressing their still clothed cocks together, making Cas gasp and shudder. Every tiny movement of Dean’s body fuels the desperate want building inside Cas and he yearns for more, aches for it like nothing else.

   ‘Dean, yes, more, please,’ Cas babbles, his eyes slipping closed, mouth open in ecstasy, his mind hazy and deliciously dark. Dean’s weight briefly shifts and Cas hears the sounds of clothing being removed or pushed aside. Then his own fly is being opened and Cas cries out when he feels Dean’s hand on his cock.

   ‘Look at me, Cas’ Dean purrs in his ear and Cas does, opening his eyes and gasping when he sees that Dean is naked in his lap. Dean preens a little, leaning back so Cas can get a good look at him. Cas’s eyes dart from freckle to nipple to tummy to cock and back again, like his eyes don’t know how to absorb everything laid out in front of him. When Dean’s hand on his cock tightens a little and moves, Cas’s eyes fall shut again, not able to handle so much stimuli.

   ‘I’ve done this to myself when thinking about you,’ Dean’s voice comes again, sounding like it’s coming from everywhere around them. ‘I’ve thought about being on my knees for you, being tied down, held down by you, tasting you in my mouth, how it would feel to let you fuck me.'

   On the word ‘fuck’ Dean swipes his thumb over the leaking slit of Cas’s cock, making him mewl desperately and his hips buck. From around and behind, within him, Cas hears Dean’s beautiful low chuckle again.

   ‘I want it so bad, Cas, I want to feel you deep inside me' Dean murmurs in Cas's ear, smiling when his words make Cas shudder and mewl again. 'Do you want that, my angel? Do you want to fuck me?'

   Cas can only nod his head now, his voice lost to the desperate whimpers caused by Dean’s words and skilled ministrations. Off in the distance there’s some more banging and perhaps a voice that causes a vague unpleasant feeling but, before Cas can focus on it, Dean’s hand is moving faster and his lips are on Castiel’s and everything feels wonderful again.

   Cas’s hands hang limply at his sides, too overwhelmed to know where to begin touching the beautiful man in his lap, until he feels Dean lift them and put them around his waist. Cas’s eyes flutter open, wanting to see the skin he’s touching, but then Dean’s mouth is on his and there’s some sort of cool liquid on his cock and then Dean moves and lifts his body and _oh!_ Cas cries out, almost pained by his pleasure as Dean sinks down onto him, his perfect green eyes closing, mouth opening to release a moan that makes Cas’s being feel electrified. Being inside Dean is like nirvana, it’s all Cas could ever want, ever hope for. Dean’s insides are so warm and he feels so good and, when he begins to move, Cas can’t think of anything except never wanting this to stop, the thought going round his head like a prayer. Cas begins to thrust up, guided by the desires of his flesh, and whimpers when Dean laughs and grinds down to meet him. Strong fingers lift his chin and force his gaze to meet Dean's. Goldy-green floods his vision, soft hot lips press on his skin and the sounds of Dean's pleasure fill him with the need for more, to merge with him completely. As Dean rides him, biting his lip and writhing in Cas's lap, all Cas can do is beg Dean not to stop, over and over like their existence depends on it.

   ‘I won’t, baby, I won’t’ Dean gasps between thrusts, looking like the embodiment of all that is sinful, lustful and glorious, ‘it won’t stop, we won’t stop. Just keep fucking me.’

   Castiel feels his orgasm approaching like he's falling from a great height, his body tensing all over, nails digging into the soft flesh of Dean's body, and then he’s all but screaming Dean’s name, as he rides him into ecstasy, his cock spurting seed deep inside Dean, and his mind melting away like ice in fire, overtaken with the bliss that only Dean can make him feel. All he needs is Dean, to fuck Dean, to be inside Dean, nothing else, there’s nothing else, onlyDeanonlyDeanonlyDean…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: I edited this chapter a bit today as it wasn't feeling quite right. I hope you guys like the improvements and thank you for reading and commenting. Comments are fanfic writer's fuel ;)


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